


Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know

by deepestfathoms



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Beating, Big Sister Michelle Mallon, Blood and Injury, Crying, Gen, Good Cousin Erin Quinn, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Orla McCool Needs A Hug, Poor Orla, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sarah McCool's A+ Parenting, Starvation, Torture, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: Orla McCool has been missing for one month and six days.
Relationships: Erin Quinn & Orla McCool
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know

The man approached Orla while she and her friends were walking home from the bus stop. Per usual, she was hanging near the back, behind the others, tight roping on the curb of the sidewalk like she was an escaped circus star. Perhaps that’s why she made such a good target, slightly neglected by the others, not being paid attention to at all.

He was a tall, scruffy man with dark almond brown eyes and patchy auburn hair. His clothes were wrinkled and stained with grease, and he smelled of alcohol, but he still walked over with a smile.

“Orla?” He said.

Orla looked at him, her head tilted like a puppy that just understood its name for the first time.

“Orla McCool?” He said again, smiling wider. His teeth were yellow and slightly out of place. “I’m a friend of your mother’s. She wanted me to come get you.”

“Oh, I’m heading home now,” Orla said.

“She’s not at home,” The man said. “She’s at the hair salon. She wanted me to bring you there for a haircut.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s looking a little scraggly, don’t you think?”

Orla felt her hair. “I suppose you’re right, yes.”

“Then let’s go. It’s not far.”

“Okay! Let me just tell my cousin--”

“No need for that,” The man grabbed Orla’s wrist. “She’ll know sooner or later. Her mother will tell her when she gets home. Besides, it’s not like she or any of your other friends are paying attention anyway, right?”

Orla looked at them. “Right.”

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

Like that, Orla McCool was gone.

Erin, Michelle, Clare, and James didn’t notice until they arrived at Fionnula’s shop for some food. Erin wheeled around, the question, “What do you want, Orla?” on her tongue, and then blinked when she realized her cousin was no longer there with them.

“Where’s Orla?” Erin asked the others, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought she was behind us,” James said.

“Well, she isn’t, James. Try to keep up.” Michelle said. She looked around. “How long has she been gone?”

“I don’t know!” Erin said, now slightly panicked.

“Maybe she got distracted by something,” Clare rationalized. “This is Orla we’re talking about.”

“She’s right, Erin,” Michelle said, noticing Erin’s worry. “She probably saw a pretty butterfly or something and followed it, then got separated. Let’s just retrace our footsteps.”

And so they did.

But Orla did not turn up.

The group searched and searched, staying out far past curfew, but they could not find any traces of the youngest member of the group. In Fionnula’s chippy, in Dennis’s shop, at the park, at the bus stop, at the library- Orla was nowhere to be seen.

Snow soon began to fall. The temperature dropped as the sun descended from the sky. Rays of blood red light bled through the cracks between buildings, painting the streets in awful crimson shades. Seeing that horrid color sent dark thoughts rebounding through Erin’s head. She kept trying to shove them out, but they kept pushing their way in and in and in--

“Erin.”

Erin pulled her coat tighter around her as the icy winds began to pick up. She strode forward, whipping her gaze all over, hoping to see any signs of her precious cousin.

“Erin!”

Erin whirled around to face her friends. She hoped they couldn’t see the tears glimmering in her eyes.

“We need to go home,” James said as gently as possible. “It’s getting late.” 

“Our parents will be worried,” Clare added just as delicately.

Erin clenched her jaw and continued walking. She couldn’t just leave Orla out here, all alone. Orla couldn’t handle being alone for so long. Maybe she was just curled up somewhere, hiding, crying for her big cousin to come and save her. Erin strained her ears to hopefully hear those calls, but all she heard were the merciless howls of the wind.

“Erin, we need to go home.” Michelle said loudly.

“We can’t just leave Orla out there.” Erin snapped, turning on her heels to face Michelle. She was swelled up like a venomous snake, but the tears glistening in her narrowed eyes slightly deterred her fearsome appearance.

“We won’t be of any use if we freeze to death.” James said.

“Nobody is going to freeze to death, dickface,” Michelle rolled her eyes.

“She’s out there, all alone, in the cold--”

“We don’t know that.” Michelle cut in. “Maybe she went home. She knows her way around the city, Erin. She’s sorta lived here her entire life.”

“But--”

Michelle sighed and put a comforting hand on Erin’s shoulder. “I know you want to find her Erin, we all do. But we need to warm up, tell the adults, and get some more people to help search. Then we can start looking again.”

Erin ground her teeth, like she was trying to create friction in her mouth to breathe enraged flames in Michelle’s face, but then slumped her shoulders. She furiously swiped away a tear that streaked down her cheek.

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Even on the walk home, Erin didn’t stop looking all around the street. It wasn’t until she stepped under the light of her stoop that Michelle, Clare, and James realized she had been crying the entire time.

There was an explosion of yelling when the kids entered the Quinn house. Apparently, Mary had called Clare’s and Michelle’s parents when they hadn’t come home at the usual time. Being bombarded by all this shouting definitely did not help the emotions running high.

“Where have you been?!” Mary boomed. “Do you know what time it is?!”

“What were you thinking?!” Geraldine cried after nearly crushing Clare in an embrace. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?!”

“We thought something happened to you!” Deidre added, hugging James and Michelle tightly. “You both are in for it now.”

None of the teenagers responded. They just stood there, rigid, eyes wide, because they could not see Orla anywhere in the house.

“Wait…” Gerry looked at all of them. “Where is Orla?”

Erin brought her hands to her head, fingers knotting tightly in her hair, an expression of pure horror on her face. Michelle sucked in a sharp breath. Clare and James exchanged worried glances.

“We thought...we thought she came back here.” Michelle said, her words tight with fear.

“No, she didn’t.” Gerry said.

“We haven’t seen her since this morning.” Mary added.

Erin crumpled down to her knees, sobbing. She muttered, “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” to herself over and over again while shaking her head. The others stared at her, wide-eyed, and then Michelle whispered in horror, “We can’t find Orla.”

\------

The search for Orla lasted until four in the morning and the only thing that was achieved was a minor case of hypothermia, sore throats, and many, many tears.

Nobody went to their own home that night. Michelle, Clare, James, and their parents stayed over at the Quinn’s house, slumped against the wall and on the couches, getting only a few hours of sleep. But Erin didn’t sleep. She stayed up all night, pacing back and forth and hugging Orla’s favorite stuffed animal, a scruffy fat cat, close to her chest.

The tears running down her cheeks felt like they would never stop.

“Don’t worry, love,” Her Aunt Sarah had said. “She’ll be back. She’s probably just wandering around somewhere.”

Erin whipped around to her, eyes wide. “How--how could you say that?” She whispered, her voice rough from crying. “Aren’t you worried?”

Sarah shrugged. “She’ll come back eventually.”

“She’s your DAUGHTER!”

“Erin,” Gerry said.

“How could you not care?! She could be hurt! She could be DEAD!!” Erin screeched. Anger replaced anguish, and it erupted from her like a rumbling volcano. “You’re her MOTHER! You should actually give a damn! You should be worried! You should be OUT THERE!! Why don’t you give a fuck?! Why don’t you CARE?!”

“Erin!” Mary yelled.

Erin collapsed into her mother’s arms, sobbing into her chest. The cries tore painfully from her body, scraping her insides raw. And every time she whimpered, she expected to look up to see Orla there, offering her one of her snacks or stuffed animals for comfort, a silly comment on her tongue to make her feel better.

But she wasn’t there.

And the loss of Orla made it feel like something vital had been ripped out of her.

\------

Sister Michael expected a lot of things when the misfit Derry Girls filed into her office, but the haunted expressions they wore was never one of them. They all looked exhausted, dragging their bodies sluggishly through the door as if they had been dredged out of long-filled graves, eyes shadowed with bruise-dark bags and encircled with red rings of fire. Their uniforms were unwashed and wrinkled, not ironed at all, or perhaps they were never even taken off in the first place. Faces stricken with a deathly pallor as if they had seen the devil himself on the way to school, hands clenching and unclenching like they were trying to claw their way out of whatever anguished state they were trapped in, they all hobbled in on weak legs. They had been crying, Sister Michael observed, or at least were very distressed over something. Erin looked the most wrecked out of them all. She also noticed that the tall, fluffy-haired one, Orla McCool, wasn’t there, either.

“Hello, children,” Sister Michael greeted dryly.

The kids replied in assorted croaks and murmurs. Even their voices were detached from them, like their very souls were being sucked right out of their bodies.

“What have you done this time?” Sister Michael asked, mentally preparing herself to hear about how the school was currently flooding because the teenagers decided to climb across the water pipes like they were monkey bars.

“We haven’t done anything,” Michelle answered gruffly. Her voice was much rougher than usual. “This time. We’re not here for--” She sighed harshly and blinked her eyes furiously, like she was trying to keep tears at bay. And those definitely were tears in her eyes, and she didn’t appear to be winning the battle against them. 

“Have you seen Orla, Sister?” Clare asked in a squeaky voice. Sister Michael noticed that she was holding a damp, shredded tissue in one hand. A finger was currently stabbing it, tearing it into tiny pieces that fluttered like dull white snowflakes to the floor.

“Orla?” Sister Michael echoed. She thought for a moment, as she usually tried to avoid thinking about any of her students if she didn’t have to. “No, I don’t suppose I have.”

Erin made a choked noise. Everyone looked at her and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Tears twinkled brightly like sterling stars on a clear night in her eyes.

“What about her?” Sister Michael asked slowly, eyeing them suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“S-Sister Michael, O-Orla is--” Erin’s voice completely cut out for a moment, morphing into a tight whine. “O-Orla is--” Again, the words caught like ice picks in her throat. “Orla--” Finally, she broke, and the tears came flooding free from her eyes. She covered her face and began to openly sob, so Clare led her over to one of the couches to sit down.

“Orla is missing, Sister Michael.” Michelle said for her friend, but even she was struggling to get the sentence out, like the words burned her tongue. She clenched her jaw for a moment, blinking rapidly again, then took a deep breath and continued, “We were hoping you’ve seen her. Maybe she came back here to do some studying or something.”

That didn’t sound like something Orla McCool would do at all, but the kids were trying to keep their hopes up. Sister Michael weirdly hated having to put down their wishful thinking.

“No, I haven’t seen her since school ended yesterday.” Sister Michael said, and Erin sobbed loudly again. Her expression became a lot more serious, losing the usual grooves of annoyance it had when she spoke to children. “How long has she been gone?”

“Since yesterday at around five, I think,” James said. He was clearly trying to be the strong, men-don’t-cry kind of boy, but even he was reeling from the disappearance of his friend. “We were walking home and then noticed she wasn’t with us.”

“We looked all night, but we couldn’t find her at all.” Clare told Sister Michael.

“It’s my fault,” Erin croaked. She slowly removed her hands from her face and stared at them as if they were drenched in her cousin’s blood. Her expression was deeply mortified and grief-stricken. “I should have been watching her.”

“It’s not your fault, Erin.” James said. “We were all there. None of us were paying attention.”

“Yeah, so we’re all to blame,” Clare nodded.

“No, you don’t--you don’t understand.” Erin said. “Orla is my little cousin. She’s my responsibility, she’s always been my responsibility. I should have been watching her.” She covered her face back up with her hands and shook her head miserably. “She can’t-- she can’t be alone for so long. She doesn’t like being alone. She _needs me_. Orla needs me! She-- she--” She broke down into tears once again. The sobs wracked through her entire body, shaking it as if an earthquake had vibrated inside her very core.

A tense moment of silence descended upon the office. Even Sister Michael wasn’t sure what to do or say. She was not trained to deal with this kind of situation, and she doesn’t think paddling these kids’s knuckles would help very much. Still, she gathered herself up maturely and tried not to let the strange feeling of grief sink in.

“Will you continue your search today?” Sister Michael asked the group.

They all nodded.

“Then I will assist you.” Sister Michael said. “Where have you not searched yet? You must have missed a few spots. Derry isn’t easy to thoroughly sweep in one night.”

The teenagers stared at her in shock. She might have laughed at their bewildered expression if it weren’t for the context of it existing.

“Are--are you serious?” Michelle asked, fumbling over her words.

“You’ll really help?” Clare added. A very dim light had returned to her eyes.

“Of course I’m serious.” Sister Michael said. “You may all be wild imps, but I do care about your wellbeing. And the disappearance of one of my students is not something I can just sit by and ignore.”

“Thank you,” Erin said wetly, sniffling. “Thank you so much, Sister.”

Sister Michael nodded curtly. “Now, tell me everything that happened. Where shall we search first?”

\------

After a rough hour and a half conversation about Orla’s disappearance, the broken Derry Girls shambled out of Sister Michael’s office. A moment later, the overhead speaker crackled to life, and the principal’s voice boomed throughout the entire school:

“I have a very important announcement to make, so please listen closely, everyone. It’s with a heavy heart to inform you all that one of our girls has gone missing. As of yesterday at around 4:30, Orla McCool has not been seen. If you or anyone you may know has any information of her whereabouts, please tell me or the Quinn family immediately. I also strongly advise all of you to aid us in the search for her. We must bring Orla home.”

And the whole time, her words were entirely genuine.

\------

That evening, hundreds of people, some of which were girls who didn’t even like Orla (like Tina and Mandy O’Connell), helped search Derry. They looked high and low, in buildings and between alleyways, on hills and under bridges, coming together as a community for the first time in whatever to look for the missing girl. For once, they were equal.

But, in the end, it was fruitless. Orla did not show up. Not even a trace of her was found.

“As it should be,” The man said. “Guess I’ve done a good job then, huh? Or perhaps this entire town is just full of idiots who don’t know how to search.” A wicked grin twisted on her lips. “Or maybe they just don’t care.”

He turned to his captive with a smirk. She hadn’t stopped shaking ever since she woke up- had he really hit her on the head that hard? He had been starting to worry he had accidentally fractured her skull and sent her into a coma. But there was no need to fret anymore, she was awake and alive and finally ready to be played with.

“I-I want t-t-t-to go h-home.” The girl choked out.

“Of course you do,” The man rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to wait little girl. We haven’t even started yet.”

“I want my Mammy,” His captive sobbed.

“You say that assuming she wants you,” The man chuckled. He crouched down in front of the crying girl. “Face it, Orla. You’re useless. You’ve always been useless. Not even your friends--your own cousin--was paying attention to you. That’s why it was so easy to get you. Well, that and then the fact that you’re a stupid, naive little girl.”

Orla whimpered and squirmed against the wall, pressing against it like she was trying to melt into the plaster. It was hard for her to move with her wrists zip tied together. The pain from her missing fingernails probably hindered her movement, too.

The man grabbed her head roughly and Orla whined sharply in pain. He squeezed it tightly.

“Do you want me to do your toenails next?” 

Orla shook her head frantically with a tight whimper.

“That’s what I thought.” The man released her hand and stood up straight. He walked over to the far wall, flicked on a dim lamp, and examined the crude selection of torture devices he had lying around. Orla sobbed out loud when she saw them.

“What to do first, what to do first…” The man mused to himself. He grabbed a pair of large metal tongs with wicked-looking claws on the end and whipped it around to Orla, causing her to shriek and curl up into a ball like a frightened hedgehog. He laughed loudly, almost bringing himself to tears. “Oh, that was too good!” He wiped his eyes. “This-- Oi, look at me.” He kicked Orla’s side. “This is called the Breast Ripper. I bet you can guess what it does.”

Orla went very, very pale- more than she usually was. Tears streamed at a steady face down her clammy cheeks.

“It’s not an actual Breast Ripper from, you know, the medieval days. I replicated it. I took welding for four years in school, so I’m pretty good with metals.” The man explained. He put the Breast Ripper down and grabbed a whip made of chains. It rattled menacingly when moved. “This might come in handy. So, if I were you, I wouldn’t be naughty.” He smacked the whip in his hands to further drill in his point and Orla nodded obediently. “What a good little girl you are. I think you should be rewarded for your good behavior so far.”

The sound of a zipper filled the room.

Yet another set of tears filled Orla’s eyes.

“No, no, no, no--” Orla sobbed, desperately trying to crawl away. She was seized quickly by the top of her head. “No, no, no-- please, please, no-- no, please-- please don’t, please, please--”

“Hush, little girl. I promise I’ll make you feel really good.” The man said while he pulled off Orla’s skirt and undergarments. “Just try to relax.”

The man flashed a sinister smirk. Orla whimpered, shaking her head while he took his pants off. Rough hands forced her thighs apart.

“Now, don’t move or this will hurt. A lot.”

\------

A week passed. Search parties have become smaller and smaller every day. Erin hasn’t smiled at all since her cousin disappeared. The Quinn house wasn’t the same.

“Where’s James?” Clare asked Michelle as the bus took off towards the school.

“He forgot something,” Michelle answered. “He’s getting the second bus. Don’t worry.”

Clare nodded. Her gaze shifted over to Erin, who was slumped against the window, dejectedly watching the landscape flash by. Her expression was hollow and almost corpse-like, but at least she wasn’t crying. If that was even a step up from how she was a few days ago.

“Do you guys want to do something after school?” Clare asked, hoping to retain a shred of normalcy with her friends.

“I’m busy.” Erin replied roughly. “I’m going out and looking for Orla again.”

“Erin…” Michelle sighed. Erin whipped her head around to her, her eyes bright and challenging, and Michelle knew she had to choose her next words carefully. “You’ve been looking all week, now. You need to take a break and get your energy back.”

“She’s right, Erin,” Clare added. “You’ve barely slept at all. We don’t even have to go out and do something, maybe we can just go study in your room or take a group nap or something like that.”

“Group nap?” Michelle looked at her.

“What? It’s the only thing I could think of on the spot. Maybe Erin could just sleep. That’s a good idea, t--”

“No.” Erin growled.

“Erin--”

“I said no.” Erin cut Clare off. “I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to hang out, I don’t want to do something. I just want to find my cousin. And so I’m going to go look for her again after school. You can join me if you’d like, I don’t care. But don’t try and stop me.”

Despite that ending comment, Michelle persisted as gently as possible, “Erin, we haven’t found any traces of her in the entire week.”

Erin gave her a dangerous look. Her eyes flickered like red hot embers. Lowly, she asked, “What are you saying?”

Near-fearless Michelle faltered, “I’m not saying anything, I just--”

“You think she’s gone forever, don’t you?”

“What?” Michelle’s eyes widened. “No! Not at all!”

“You think we’re never going to find her?”

“No, that’s not what I meant--”

“You think she’s dead?”

“NO!” Michelle exploded. “NO, I DON’T!”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU MAKING IT SOUND LIKE SHE IS?!” Erin screamed back. No tears gathered in her eyes- perhaps she ran out after the first day. Instead, pure hate and rage filled her gaze as she reared up like a furious polar bear. Her voice was loaded with venom, and she shouted so loudly the bus driver swerved off the road in shock for a moment.

“I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, ERIN!” Michelle yelled. 

“SHE ISN’T DEAD!” Erin howled on. “SHE ISN’T! I KNOW SHE ISN’T! SO YOU CAN’T GIVE UP HOPE! NOT YET!”

Michelle didn’t respond. Clare looked petrified in the seat behind them. Everyone was staring in silence. Erin sat down after a moment and clenched her shaking fists tightly.

“Erin,” Michelle said softly. “I get it, okay? I know you’re upset. I am, too. Orla was like a little sister to me. I love that little weirdo more than life itself! I know what you’re going through, but I can’t sit by and let you run yourself into the ground!”

Erin stared at the bus floor for a long time, carving red crescent moons into her palms. Then, slowly, so slowly, she lifted her head, looked into Michelle’s eyes, and said, “I’m looking for her after school.”

“Okay.” Michelle said. “I’m coming with you.”

Erin nodded and said nothing else for the remainder of the ride to school.

Upon arriving, everyone filed into the main hall, per usual. Announcements started for the day, Sister Michael speaking as though she weren’t distraught over one of her students still not showing up.

And then, the entrance doors opened and James stumbled in.

It wasn’t until he got to where his friends were that any of them noticed that he was holding a green blazer.

Orla’s blazer.

Orla’s blazer, stained with blood.

The room went dead silent. All eyes were on Erin, who had an unreadable expression on her face. She stumbled through the line of girls and stepped into the empty aisle where James was standing. She looked up at him, mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something but couldn’t muster the words, eyes rapidly filling with tears.

“I-I found it--outside.” James forced out.

“No,” Erin whispered hoarsely.

“I’m sorry,” James said, his voice weak. He was already crying, face inflamed with red, eyes glowing in the overhead lights.

“No,” Erin said again. 

“I’m so sorry, Erin,” James said, choking. 

Erin fell down to her knees. Her arms hung limply at her side and she looked listlessly up at the ceiling like her little cousin used to do. She always wondered what Orla had been looking at and what she found so entertaining about the roof.

Now she would never get to ask. 

Erin screamed.

The sound was like nothing anyone in that hall had ever heard before. It was an anguished, terrible noise that was so intense and powerful that Erin blew her voice out within an instant, and even then she kept screaming.

Erin’s hands flew to her skull, pulling roughly on her hair, and she shook her head furiously as if she were trying to erase the realization from her brain. Then, she was hugging herself tightly and rocking back and forth, still wailing like she was being gutted alive. And she may as well have been, because Orla was her lifeline, and without her she was nothing at all.

Erin continued to scream that terrible, strangled scream for several painful moments. James stood rigid above her, white knuckling Orla’s jacket close to his chest, whimpering through a barrage of tears and quivering lips. He kept whispering, “I’m sorry, Erin, I’m so sorry” but no amount of apologies would bring Orla back. 

Clare had her face buried in her hands, sobbing, saying, “it wasn’t supposed to be like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen” over and over again because she was right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to them. They weren’t supposed to be the ones to go through such a tragedy. 

“GODDAMNIT!!!” Michelle roared. She punched the wall as hard as she could, but the pain brought no clarity. She pressed one hand to her eyes and wept, “Goddamnit… Orla… No…” 

And on the stage, Sister Michael watched the infamous Derry Girls break down before her. She closed her stinging eyes, bowed her head, and, for once, genuinely prayed to God for it to not to be true.

\------

Erin didn't go to school for the rest of that week, not that anyone blamed her. She lied in her bed, piled with all of Orla’s stuffed animals, and cried herself into exhaustion. The tears stopped, eventually, but the unfathomable weight pressing down on her heart does not.

“How are you feeling, love?” Her mother asked one day, bringing her some food and water, since she was pretty adamant on not leaving her room.

Erin shrugged, staring at the ceiling.

“Deidre called,” Mary said. “Michelle and James are coming over later. They wanted to see you.”

Erin nodded wordlessly.

Mary looked at her, then set down the tray she brought in with her. There was deep sadness in her eyes.

“She’s in a better place now, honey.”

“No, she’s not.” Erin grit out. “She’s not, Mammy.”

“Erin--”

“She belonged here. With me.” Erin said, sitting up. “She should be here. And she will be.”

“What are you talking about, Erin?”

Erin looked in her mother’s eyes, and for the first time since Orla’s disappearance, there was a flame flickering inside them.

“She’s not dead, Mammy. I know she isn’t.”

\------

And yet, it’s been a month and six days and Orla McCool has not been seen.

Things slowly went back to normal. In the Derry Girls’s case, as normal as things could be. It was weirdly quiet without Orla, but they were learning to deal with it. Jokes were made again and Michelle went back to calling James insulting nicknames, so there was some improvement. Even Erin would smile and laugh like she used to. But they all saw the way she looked around everywhere whenever they went places, the way she perked up when she saw anyone with curly brown hair, the way she kept Orla’s favorite stuffed animal in her backpack when she went to school as some kind of memorial charm.

She was still looking for Orla. Or, at least, she was going through mourning. It was hard to tell with the way she acted.

“I was thinking we do an ugly Christmas sweater contest,” Clare said as they walked outside to get to their next class.

“Ugly Christmas sweaters? Really?” James quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Clare said passionately. “It could be fun!”

“Yeah, James,” Michelle nodded. “It could be!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re going to tape a mirror to a sweater,” Erin said.

James blinked. “Why would that be a good ugly-- Oh.”

They all laughed. Erin stopped first, her giggling cutting off fast and abrupt.

“Do you guys see that?” Erin said, squinting into the distant snowy field. 

“See what?” Clare asked her.

“That.” She pointed to something. “What is that?”

“Probably nothing,” James said. “Come on, we have to get to class.”

“Hang on.” Erin stepped off of the sidewalk and began trudging through the snow. “There’s something there!”

“Damnit, Erin, we’re--” Michelle cut herself off as they got closer. “Holy shit. Is that a person?!”

That’s what got them all to start running, and the closer they got, the more they realized that it was, in fact, a person lying in the snow.

A person with a mop of curly brown hair.

“ORLA?!”

Erin collapsed down onto her knees next to the sprawled body, which was wrapped in an old, dirty brown blanket. Her hands hovered for a moment before she flipped it over onto its back, then screamed and covered her mouth in shock.

It _was_ Orla.

Knotted, greasy curly brown hair fell around her narrowed skull like wilted flowers. Her cheeks were sunken in and her eye sockets were deep caves in her skull, rimmed with red, and not because she had been crying recently. Her lips were leached of all color, turned to a deathly white color like a corpse’s mouth would have. But still, it was their Orla.

“Oh my god,” Michelle muttered.

“Is she alive?” James asked frantically.

Erin snapped out of her shocked trance to feel Orla’s lean neck. Tears filled her eyes. A pulse just barely fluttered beneath her fingertips.

“She’s alive,” Erin whispered.

Michelle couldn’t help but grin widely. James and Clare hugged each other in glee. Erin laughed breathily, joyful and relieved and just a little startled.

“She’s alive…” Erin whispered again.

“She needs a hospital,” Clare said. 

“I’ll go get a phone!” James said, then took off back towards the school.

“I’ll get Sister Michael!” Clare ran after him.

Michelle and Erin were left with the still body of Orla, still overwhelmed with relief and joy. But that happiness didn’t shine brightly for long, because Michelle hesitantly peeled off one side of the blanket and she and Erin both saw the horrors that lurked underneath.

Bruises. 

Bruises so dark they looked black. Bruises and welts and gashes with angry red maws that were inflamed with infection. Her ribs were poking out of her delicate flesh and her stomach was severely sunken in, showing signs of starvation. A labyrinth of cuts marred her belly and back, as if she had been whipped mercilessly by something. Handprints encircled her neck, dark and tender, and strange brownish marks dotted the bruising, as well as peppering her collarbone and breasts. 

“Oh my god,” Erin muttered in horror. Disgust and rage roiled inside of her. How could somebody do such a thing to her innocent little cousin? She was going to make them pay if she ever found them.

Michelle stared in silence for a moment, then shimmied down to Orla’s legs. Erin gave her a sharp look when she made a move to spread her thighs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Erin hissed. 

“I’m checking to see if she was--” The word snagged in Michelle’s throat for a moment; she didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want to say it and make it real, not for poor little Orla. “I’m checking to see if she was raped.”

Erin sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn’t even considered that being a thing that could have happened; all she thought about was mutilation and torture, and she wasn’t sure which was worse.

“You can tell?” Erin whispered.

“Kinda?” Michelle said. “I mean, when you have enough sex, especially rough sex, your hole--” She fumbled. “--it kinda gets, ahh--red.”

Erin nodded. “Thank god for your sexual knowledge, then.”

Michelle smiled thinly, then gently parted Orla’s thighs and--

And, God, she wished she didn’t look.

Being told the news was one thing, but having to look it in its eye was a whole different story. One that she really didn’t want to be the bearer of, but it was too late now, because she was looking at Orla’s swollen, red, bloodied vagina and just _knew_ it was her job to let Erin know. She couldn’t let Erin see. Not this.

“Yeah,” Michelle breathed out in horror. She nodded, swallowing thickly. The stench of blood and god knows how many unreceptive loads of cum staining Orla’s inner thighs was awful. “Yeah. She--she was.”

“Oh god,” Erin whispered. She reached out and cupped Orla’s pale face. “You’re going to be okay, Orla. I’m here now. It’s Erin. Michelle is here, too. We’re with you. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again.”

“We really need to get her to a hospital,” Michelle said. “Not just for her wounds, either. She needs to get checked for a pregnancy, too.”

Erin snapped her head to Michelle, wide-eyed. “She might me--?”

Michelle nodded grimly. “It’s possible. And if she is, then she’s going to need an abortion.”

“Do they even have the pills in Derry?” Erin worried.

“Cross your fingers.” Michelle looked down at Orla. “We have to get her out of the snow.”

“She’s burning up, Michelle,” Erin said, feeling Orla’s forehead. “I think her wounds are infected.” She glanced at the several gashes splattered across her cousin’s thin frame. They were filled with pus and drooled a foul-smelling yellowish liquid. “Yeah, we really need to get her out of here. Inside the school at least.”

Michelle didn’t have to be told twice. In one swift motion, she scooped Orla up as if she had the weight of a feather. She very well could have been, because she was far too light in Michelle’s arms. Not that she’s ever been very heavy, even with the amount of food she ate, but this was just concerning. Yet another thing to be worried about over this poor girl.

“Be careful!” Erin yelped, jumping to her feet. “What if I held her? She’s my cousin.”

“And she’s basically my little sister.” Michelle said. “Just like you are. And as the oldest I have to take care of you both. Also, with all due respect, I don’t trust you to hold her safely. You’re freaking out, Erin.”

Erin doesn’t argue. “Okay. Fine. Let’s just get her inside.”

Running through the snow has never been easy, but running through the snow with an unconscious, near-dead girl in your arms was even harder. The sidewalk was slick with ice, too, and Michelle nearly keeled forward when she slipped, which probably would have killed Orla when she landed on her if she hadn’t caught herself.

A tiny noise alerted Michelle as she and Erin were jogging to the front of the school. She had to slow down to notice that Orla was twitching in her arms. First, her fingers, then her nose, then her entire head. Her eyelids fluttered as if she wanted to open them, but didn’t have the energy to do so. Another noise--a whimper--escaped her pale lips.

“She’s waking up.”

Erin skidded to a halt and whipped around. “What?”

“She’s waking up, Erin.” Michelle repeated, more urgency in her voice. She knelt down on the sidewalk as Erin darted over.

“C-Can I--?” Erin asked.

“Here,” Michelle set Orla on the ground. It had to be anything but comfortable and also very, very cold, but it was obvious Erin couldn’t wait any longer to hold her little cousin. In an instant, Erin had her arms thrown around Orla’s frail body and was rocking her back and forth.

“Oh, Orla, Orla, Orla…” Erin whispered through tears. “I missed you so much, Orla, I missed you so much…”

Orla twitched, then whimpered. Erin pulled back slightly and Michelle crowded her other side, the two of them acting like barricades from the bone-chilling wind.

“Orla?” Michelle called out. “Can you hear me? It’s Michelle and Erin. You’re safe now.”

“We’re here, Orla.” Erin added. “I’m here.”

Orla’s eyelids fluttered again. With great difficulty, they eventually peeled back and golden brown eyes filled with blood looked up at Michelle and Erin.

“Orla,” Erin whispered.

“Holy shit,” Michelle muttered. “Her eyes, they-- Did the bastard who did this really strangle her that hard?”

He had to have. Maybe that’s why Orla was out there in the first place. The kidnapper dumped her body in the field on the school campus and then strangled her so much her blood vessels burst and her eyes began to bleed. That was fresh blood, after all. 

The kidnapper thought she had died. When her body went still, he decided it was over and left. But she wasn’t dead. Orla was still hanging on by a thread. 

She wasn’t going to die. Not on their watch. Derry Girls don’t fucking die, not like this.

“Orla, it’s Erin.” Erin said, cupping one of her cousin’s sallow cheeks. “I’m here, Orla. You’re safe now.”

Orla stared up at her, bloody eyes practically bulging out of their recessed sockets. Her pale lips parted and she just barely forced out, “Erin?”

Erin smiled tearfully. “That’s right,” She nodded. Her tears splattered against Orla’s face and she gently thumbed them away. “That’s right, sweetie. It’s me. It’s Erin.”

“Erin,” Orla croaked again. “Erin… I-I don’t--feel--” Her head lolled backwards and she panted heavily, burning with fever.

“She’s in a lot of pain, Erin,” Michelle said. “She NEEDS a hospital.”

“I know,” Erin said. 

“Michelle,” Orla choked out. She looked at the older girl and did weak grabby hands. Michelle took it, being mindful of the fingernails ripped off of each digit, and squeezed it comfortingly.

“Hey, darling,” Michelle whispered, smiling warmly. “I missed you.”

“I-I--I missed--missed you--t-too.” The words barely escaped Orla’s lips. She was using all her energy to speak and stay awake. “M-Michelle, I-I don’t--I don’t feel good…”

“I know, honey,” Michelle said sadly. “Help is on the way, okay? Just hang in there.”

Orla nodded and then seemed to be consumed by an intense wave of agony, because her entire face screwed up and she curled into Erin, crying out into her chest. When she collapsed back, held up only by Erin’s arms, her face was wet with bloody tears and she was breathing harshly.

“It hurts,” She moaned. “It hurts…”

At that moment, Clare and James rushed back over, practically tripping over themselves.

“They’re sending an airlift.” James said.

“Sister Michael is coming.” Clare said at the same time.

Then, they both looked down at Orla sobbing, then back up at Michelle and Erin, wide-eyed.

“She’s awake.” James said.

“Yeah,” Michelle nodded. “For now.”

Erin pulled Orla closer to her chest and rocked her eyes. She began to stroke her matted brown hair.

“Shh, shh,” Erin murmured to Orla, who kept whimpering as if she were a puppy with a bullet in its leg. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie, it’s going to be okay.”

“E-Erin--” Orla gurgled.

“I’m right here, I’m right here,” Erin said. She kissed the top of Orla’s head, then pressed their foreheads together. “I’m not going to let you go, okay? I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Sister Michael was soon there. Her expression was a mix between relief and fear when she saw the state Orla was in, though she tried to suppress the latter.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Sister Michael muttered under her breath.

“You said it, Sister,” Michelle said, hearing her. 

“She’s naked?” James observed.

“She was raped.” Michelle informed them. “Several times, I think.”

Clare gasped in horror and covered her mouth. James was petrified at the news. Sister Michael looked absolutely enraged.

“How could someone do such a thing?” Sister Michael snarled. “To a child of all people?”

“I’m thinking the same thing,” Michelle said.

A loud humming sound soon caught their attention. A helicopter was coming down.

The vast emptiness that had filled all of them was soon flooded with a hot flow of hope. It wasn’t long before paramedics were storming out into the snow with a gurney. They took one look at Orla, then began working even faster, rushing to get her back onto the helicopter so she could be brought to the hospital. Only one person was allowed to go along, so Erin clambered onto the giant vehicle. If it weren’t for the current situation, she might have been more excited about riding in an actual helicopter.

Orla was unconscious for the entire fly to the nearest hospital. She had black out when she was removed from Erin’s arms. Paramedics haphazardly worked around her in a flurry, shouting things at each other in their thick, panicked accents that even Erin couldn’t understand.

“Is my cousin going to be okay?” She asked.

Her question went unheard.

\------

Three days.

Two deaths.

Two times Orla’s heart stopped beating. At least, that’s how Erin understood it. How her mind was clinging to the existence of renewed life. They say they don’t have the means to restart a dead heart, only a failing heart. An out of rhythm heart, failing to recover. But Orla was dead. At least, the equivalent of it.

Erin thought Orla’s been dead for longer than she liked to admit.

\------

Three days.

One final moment of relief.

The nurses said Orla was calling for her. Erin.

The relief was instantaneous.

“Hey there,” Erin cooed, sitting down beside the hospital bed Orla was in. 

“Erin,” Orla slurred. She was pumped full of sedatives and antibiotics and painkillers. “Erin…” She did her adorable grabby hands and Erin took one, stroking the knuckles tenderly.

“I’m right here, Orla.” Erin told her. “How are you feeling?”

Orla whimpered in response, a sad little sound that broke Erin’s heart further.

“Missed you,” Her voice was barely there.

“I missed you, too.” Erin kissed Orla’s forehead and Orla scrunched her face up adorably. “I missed you so much. You don’t even know.”

Orla looked up at her, breathing faintly, tracing a shaking hand over the wrapped bruising around her neck, and said, “I do.”

\------

Three days.

Several visits.

Erin never wanted to leave Orla’s side after she became stable enough to receive visitors. The rest of the Derry Girls were the same.

James brought several flowers, while Clare brought balloons. Michelle got Orla a chameleon beanie baby because it was “weird like her”. That got a giggle out of Orla, and the sound was like music to their ears. Even Sister Michael came and had a private talk with Orla, which ended in an actual hug.

The only one who didn’t visit was Sarah. No, Sarah was off doing interviews with news stations and reporters, telling the ghastly tale of her missing little girl. At one point, she had slunk off to thank Orla’s kidnapper for agreeing to do this with her. The attention she got from it was absolutely thrilling. She’ll have to do it again sometime.

\------

_“God, you’re tight,” The man groaned, roughly rocking Orla’s weak body. “Even when starved, you remain to be the best fuck I’ve ever had. You should be proud!”_

_Orla cried weakly in response. What number was this? Was this the first time this week or the sixth? No, he definitely defiled her the day before. She remembered not being able to breathe when he forced himself down her throat._

_“Please, please…” Orla gasped, barely able to breathe through the pain. Each thrust made it feel like all her insides were being pulled out from her vagina, then shoved right back in. “Please…”_

_“What was that?” The man leaned over her scarred back. He would whip her with the chain whip when she didn’t obey him, like when she wouldn’t open her mouth to give him access to her throat. “Do you want more?”_

_“No! No,” Orla sobbed. “I want-- I want--”_

_“Your Mammy?” The man guessed. “Because she isn’t coming for you. She isn’t looking for you.”_

_“I want my Auntie!” Orla cried. “Please, please-- Auntie Mary--”_

_The man rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t want you, either.”_

_“Erin…” Orla wept. “Erin… Auntie Mary… Please…”_

_The man growled. “You annoying brat.” He raked his nails down her gashed back, making her wail in pain. “Hmm. Maybe I should try a different hole… That might get you to focus.”_

_Orla’s eyes went impossibly wide. “No! No! Please, no! No!”_

_But he didn’t listen._

_The pain was awful. Much worse than her vagina. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, that she was being ripped open, that her innards were being punctured and--_

Orla bolted upright, gasping harshly.

She clawed at the sheets that had tangled around her while she slept. Her mind was a panicked mess, the nightmare frying her and disrupting her sleep for what felt like the millionth time.

Every night had been the same since she was kidnapped. It’s been three days since she was released from the hospital and she had yet to have a peaceful night’s sleep. 

“Orla?” Erin looked up sleepily.

Orla whimpered in response. Instantly, Erin was sitting up and cupping her face tenderly. Orla leaned into her hands, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“Erin,” Orla mewled pathetically.

“Shh… Shh…” Erin shushed her, pressing a kiss to Orla’s messy hair.

Orla was too scared to feel bad about waking Erin up. Again. For what was probably the hundredth time. She never slept peacefully. Not anymore.

“Did you have the dream again?” Erin asked. She was rocking Orla back and forth, stroking her fingers through brown curls that were damp with sweat. 

Orla nodded with a whimper. She curled into Erin’s comforting warmth, crying quietly. She could still feel his hands all over her body, groping, grasping, grinding--

“Erin,” Orla gasped, then sobbed. “Erin--”

Erin looked at her sadly. She brushed some hair out of her face. “Oh, sweetie… You don’t look too good.”

“Mm-mmm, mm-mmm,” Orla shook her head.

“Are you going to be sick?”

Orla nodded.

“Okay. That’s okay. Come on.” 

Erin helped Orla into the bathroom, where Orla promptly collapsed to her knees in front of the toilet.

“This just isn’t your night, huh?” Erin asked while situating herself beside her cousin. It never seemed to be Orla’s night anymore, not after what happened. She took to threading her fingers through Orla’s hair, since she knew she liked that.

Orla made a tiny noise in response. “E-Er--”

“It’s alright. Just get it out of your system. I’m going to go get my m--”

Orla grabbed Erin’s by the wrist, holding on with a death grip. She didn’t look up at her, too humiliated to make eye contact, but still refused to be alone like this. Thank God her cousin understood so she didn’t have to pathetically mewl it out loud.

“Okay. I’m staying. I won’t go anywhere.”

Orla wanted to thank her, she really did, but then bile rose up in her throat and she gathered enough energy to push herself up to avoid vomiting all over herself.

Erin held her hair out of the way, rubbing her hand gently across the top of her back. The scars that marred the plain of flesh were still tender and scabbed.

The both of them stayed in the bathroom for an hour, and Orla ended up throwing up two more times before her body finally relented. By the end of it, she was shaking in exhaustion and pain, her eyes were barely open, and her face was soaked in sweat. She swayed and then collapsed against Erin’s chest.

“There we go,” Erin cooed, stroking back her sweaty hair from her forehead, “All done?”

Orla nodded. Her stomach was still cramped up in discomfort, and the sight from her nightmare still replayed behind her eyes, but there was no more nausea. Her body just didn’t have the energy to make her sick anymore.

“You poor thing,” Erin sighed. “You don’t deserve this.”

Orla could only reply in a weak noise. Her cheeks were puffy and tender and her throat burned from all her excessive vomiting, so she couldn’t muster any words.

“Let’s get you back to bed, alright?”

Orla nodded, grateful for rest, even if she knew what would come when she relaxed.

Orla curled up into a tight ball the minute she was laid on Erin’s bed. She was completely exhausted and barely even awake at this point, but Erin managed to get her to drink a glass of water before she completely passed out.

Erin stayed up for around half an hour, just keeping watch over her cousin and making sure she was really asleep. Sometimes, Orla would twitch or whimper, but a few murmured words, hair strokes, and kisses against her forehead would calm her down. After a while, Erin deemed it good enough and she laid down to rest.

“Goodnight, Orla,” Erin whispered. “I love you.”

Recovery is a hard process, and both of them know this. Everyone who was a part of the Disappearance of Orla McCool knows this. 

It’s a shame that physical injuries heal faster than psychological ones.


End file.
